


The Road To Hell Ain't Lonely

by JEAikman



Series: Sarcastic, Charming (and sometimes Murderous) Assholes [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, I don't actually know how to tag this, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, but there are snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3312749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It sounds despicable, she knows, but she goes to them when she most needs reminding that she’s not the worst person in the world, that there are people with just as much red in their ledger. She never tells anyone else about these nights, when she can feel the blood of her victims on her hands, thick and dark and smelling sharply of iron, though Clint probably knows. He's always known her so well - but he's not who she needs right now.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This was on tumblr ages ago, but apparently I never got around to posting it here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road To Hell Ain't Lonely

It sounds despicable, she knows, but she goes to them when she most needs reminding that she’s not the worst person in the world, that there are people with just as much red in their ledger. She never tells anyone else about these nights, when she can feel the blood of her victims on her hands, thick and dark and smelling sharply of iron, though Clint probably knows. He's always known her so well - but he's not who she needs right now.

She doesn’t know when it first started, really. Stark has always been flirty with her, that’s just his nature. It didn’t mean anything, she told herself – now she knows better. She thought them happy together – and they are, but sometimes she needs them, and they need her, and they seek solace in a shared darkness, rather than facing their demons alone. She often ends up in the middle, once they eventually fall asleep, Stark pulling her close (who knew he was so tactile? Not many, probably) and Barnes with his back to them, guarding even as they slept. On her worst nights, she needs this, to be cocooned by their warmth and their empathy, when she knows that no one else truly understands. She has taken to calling Barnes Iakov, and he smiles when she does. Stark has many pet-names for both of them, but she can’t think of one that fits him right now, but that doesn’t matter. They are here, and they hold her up when the world is giving way and she cannot find her feet.  
  
She finds comfort when Stark whispers in her ear that his weapons have slaughtered masses - murderers and innocents alike. Far more that she could ever manage with her thighs, or her knives, or her Bites. He smirks whilst he says it.

She needs that, needs to hear him number his sins, they wash over her like prayers. When she trembles with the heavy memories of her past, he holds her, kisses the top of her head as she cries silently. She can shed her bloody tears here – no one will shame her for the sins they share.

Iakov watches them silently tonight, his gaze appreciative but sharp. She knows he knows her darkest thoughts. He’s seen the same darkness for as many years as she has. The feel of a thousand bloody throats beneath those fingers, all entangled into one disjointed memory of horror. How dare they tremble now, when they never once flinched before. She piled bodies at her feet and felt nothing.

Why did she feel so much now?

  
Iakov moves towards them then, whilst Tony prattles on about pride and war and redemption, a story they’ve heard at least a hundred times before. He is their storyteller, and through him, even a murderer’s tale is one with a happy ending. Of course, Tony goes on to quip that the story never ends until they’re all dead, so really, everyone gets the same ending, no matter what their story is.  
  
Neither assassin speaks much, but they don’t need to, with each other, and Stark is adept enough at reading people that he gets a hint of what they’re saying, so he keeps talking, the litany of his voice keeping at bay the screams in their memories

Eventually, the talking leads to other, baser comforts, and they all take pleasure in giving themselves over to the temporary reprieve it allows them. Eventually they all collapse over each other, drinking in the warmth of the bodies next to them, and Natasha can let herself be happy for what she has here, she thinks.

Sighing and content, Stark flips over onto this belly, disturbing Iakov, who had sprawled over both Stark and Natasha, with an arm around each of them, metal for Stark, real hand for Natasha. Natasha smirks at the inventor, and Iakov snorts at what he says then, as he looks at them both with eyes that are far more expressive than they are anywhere but this bed.

“At the risk of sounding horribly cliché and romantic, if I had to go to hell with anyone, I’m glad it’s you two.” That is a sentiment that she shares – any hell is better than a lonely one. And this, what they share, it might be the closest to any kind of heaven that she will ever see. But maybe she’s just feeling like something of a romantic at the moment too. And really, she thinks, if this is what she gets, to be in bed with two beautiful intelligent, deadly men who know her better than anyone else, then why shouldn’t she enjoy it?


End file.
